


Nude

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dark!Merlin, Gen, Implied Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well Hope Estheim, shall we begin?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nude

**Author's Note:**

> You paint yourself white  
> And fill up with noise  
> But there'll be something missing
> 
> AU Matching Meme.

__There's a skeletal, dying tree just outside, placed too close to the house so that with every breath of wind its branches scratch against the window, a steady _tap tap tap_ that makes his gut churn. With a flick of his wrist, the tree falls silent. The boy below him whimpers.  
  
Merlin's eyes are like fire, his fingers like ice and the child's skin is frail and hot beneath them. He ghosts his thumb over plush red lips, down trembling porcelain thighs and tries to hold back the laughter because even in the dark, the colors are all wrong. He sifts a hand through blond hair several shades too pale, presses tremulous kisses to rosy and rounded little boy cheeks that go white beneath his touch. There's a scar curled around the boy's knee, perfect and stark against the skin and Merlin wonders how he got it. Wonders if there had been blood involved.  
  
The boy whines and shudders, the half-hearted sob lacking the feeling it had three hours ago. Tears collect in his lashes and even in the dim light of the room Merlin can't pretend that the green of the boy's eyes are blue.  
  
He smiles and somewhere beyond his madness he wonders how centuries of ever lasting life has lead to this. He thinks that it's probably Arthur's fault and laughs. It's always Arthur's fault.  
  
The boy's trembling begins anew as Merlin's eyes flash in the dark, fresh blood bubbling from a new cut against his thigh. He murmurs prayers for lightning and snow under his breath and Merlin wonders how he thinks that the elements will help him. Static crackles across pale knuckles and the boy flinches. When Merlin brushes the back of his hand across the boy's cheek, a gesture of _comfort_ , the boy _screams_. Flesh blisters.  
  
The blue glow of electricity fills the room and icicles cling to Merlin's fingertips. His smile tastes like razors.  
  
"Well Hope Estheim, shall we begin?"


End file.
